


The Skeleton That Stood On Top Of A Van And Then Waved At A Bird And Stole A Traffic Cone

by tittlediddle



Category: Original Work
Genre: Please Don't Kill Me, This is my first story here, i did it for school, i had it pre finished lol, i just wanted to impress my english teacher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 15:17:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19008430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tittlediddle/pseuds/tittlediddle
Summary: I was inspired by the fake book cover of the same name. Wanted to try my hand at mimicking another writers style, ie. Stephen King's masterful writings.





	1. Dirt Roads and Mysterious Cabins

Drew Davis began down the old dirt road towards the Lecherson’s cabin. At this time of year, the rurality of Maine is in full swing. Thick, red underbrush swept at Drew’s feet, scraping his rubber soles. He walked down the path, which was no longer weeded by the Skeleton Crew. Nobody in Bethel, Maine knew what caused the kids to plow it, but the path was there. The path was always there, deep in the dense woods.  
Drawing near to the cabin, its rustic drawl shown through the pine trees surrounding it, Drew noticed that the outside of the cabin looked like normal living quarters: the standard of four windows, a door, a chimney in the back, and a quaint front porch with the usual shitty furnishings. On the inside, however, mysteries one would spend hours solving, such as the empty lobster trap holding wooden dishes. Normal people not acquainted with the Lechersons would find such things strange, but to Drew, these “mysteries” were nothing more than how the Lechersons family worked.   
Coming up to the door, the single stair creaked under Drews feet. He knocked on the door - _Knock Knock Knock_ \- and the door flew open. The suddenness of the swing caused Drew’s auburn hair to fly into his face. Rachel Lecherson stood in the frame, her broad stature towering over him. She was always intimidating to Drew, tall and muscular and mean. Anything she said had a strict undertone, scaring anyone of sane mind away. Drew, on the other hand, had become accustomed to the woman’s syntax.  
Anyways, the beefcake before him was peering into his soul, analyzing every strand of knowledge in his mind until --   
“What do you need, Drew?”   
He jumped a bit, stuttering, “I-I would like to speak with Kevin, please. It’s about something from school.”  
 _Pound --_  
Rachel had changed her stance --   
_Pound. Pound. Pound._  
“You can come in, just leave your coat and shoes outside.”  
 _Pound. Pound. Pound. Pound._  
She paused, eyeing his messenger bag, and Drew imagined that the woman could hear the thumping of his heart.  
“And that bag. Leave that, too.” She removed herself from the wooden door frame and allowed Drew to pass.  
Across the threshold, a flood of Southern Comfort assaulted him. He recoiled, but quickly resumed his pace towards Kevin’s room. The scent grew stronger as he passed Kevin’s father, Harold Lecherson, the man spread out on his burgundy recliner like butter on toast. He was passed out, the whiskey bottle in his hand drooping slightly. Following the bumpy runner rug down the hallway, Drew turned the corner into Kevin’s room.   
“Hey, I heard you come in” Kevin called, sitting up on his bed. “What do you need?”   
“It’s about what happened at school.” Drew replied, shifting his feet back and forth. Never has he been more scared to speak to his best friend. They had known each other since kindergarten. Kevin had seen Drew trying to eat a rock, had promptly stopped him, and they’d been best buds ever since.  
“What do you mean?” Kevin’s eyes widened, sweat starting to trickle down his forehead as he too started to shift.   
“Principle Mockery pulled me out of class today to ask about what happened in Chemistry. He wanted to know what all happened, and who was involved, but the bell rang for dismissal before we could sit and talk.”  
Kevin looked down, panic lighting his face. “Did he ask about me? Like, specifically?”  
“No, but he did mention Samantha. Her involvement was more precarious than yours anyways.”   
Drew switched the leg he was standing on, staring down at Kevin on his bed. He was starting to sweat more profusely, tears hitting the corner of his eyes. He spoke, voice wavering,   
“I pray to God he doesn’t call me in. I can’t bring myself to talk about it.”


	2. Chemicals and Swing-sets

The day started slow. Minutes took hours, hours took days, and the overall tone of the school was one of grogginess and crowded, clouded skies. Pamela Pennins, the resident chemistry teacher, was in the worst mood of her life.  
_These students. These teachers. These -- these -- the people (and I use that term loosely) make a sport out of driving me loony-toony, over-the-fucking-top batshit. I wish I could burn down this school. All they do is scream and yell and -- and --_  
“Miss Pennins? Can you help me with the lab? I’m having a hard time working the bunsen burner.”  
“I guess.” She sighed, getting out of her “comfy” ( _cheap_ ) teacher’s chair, and headed to his desk. Meanwhile, Cassie Mongo sat in the corner of the room by herself. She was not completely oblivious to the kids around her, all talking and laughing as they worked on their lab, but she didn’t mind. She enjoyed working on her own, not having to follow rules set by other kids. Cassie was a “special” child. As a kid, she fell off a swing set and cracked her skull open. Since then, she walked lopsided, talked in only slight mumbles and whispers, and crossed her eyes at the slightest inconvenience. Due to this “specialty” she was exiled to the back, always ignored, always talked about, but never to.  
Then again, she didn’t mind. She was too enveloped in her lab work to pay attention. Too focused, to notice that group of three kids starting to approach her.  
“Hey _Carrie,_ what are _you_ up to?”  
A tall figure leaned over Cassie, casting a shadow onto the work in front of her. She couldn’t recognize the voice, too isolated to know any classmates.  
“W-What do… you want? Is it that.. You want what… do y-you-”  
“Speak up, _twat._ We just wanted to talk to you, but you can’t even do that.”  
_SCRAPE_  
A chair was pulled across the floor, raking against the linoleum. caused Cassie to jump, almost knocking over her own bunsen burner.  
“I was just… just working on… working just… my…” She trailed off, trying to get the courage even to emit a mutter. Verbal tics made double-trouble for the already-daily horrorshow of experiences she could barely call a life. _So susceptible, just like he always said_ \- - -  
And yet -- in a sudden bout of confidence --  
“My. Packet.”  
_And the crowd goes wild for Crazy Cassie! What a blow out!_  
The burning flame she felt light in her chest was quickly put out.  
“How fucking delightful. What are you learning, Cassie? How to mix one and two together?” The shadow spoke, twisting knots into her stomach.  
At that last syllable, two more shadows appeared on her sides. A hand reached over and poured something into the vial. Cassie held her breath, trying not to puke as the chemicals in the glass started to bubble and fizz.  
“Don’t worry, we just wanted to drop in and say hello. Check up on you.” Shadow #2 replied, sarcasm dripping off of their words.  
_SCRAPE_  
Again, another chair. Scraping and dragging, blissfully distracting the already unaware Chemistry teacher.  
“We _really_ do care for you, Carrie.” Big shadow hissed, grabbing a hold of her chair.  
With her field of vision of expanding and contracting convulsively, her thoughts  
The chair she was in was being pushed toward the desk, squishing her into the table. Chair scraping, the loudness drowned out her cry. Miss Pennins now payed attention, turning toward the source of the noise. Chemical began to flow out of the tube, oozing on to her hard work. By then she was screaming. Her face was suddenly thrust against the desk by the tallest shadows hand.  
Chemicals burned her skin.  
Hands flailing, Cassie grabbed a hold of someone's shirt with her right hand, yanking so hard she ripped the fabric. Her face was repeatedly bashed into the table, only pulling up to let her breathe. Skin on her nose began to melt first, the rest of her face following suit. Stench started to waft, smelling of a mix of burnt flesh and fumigant. The hand finally let go after the poor girl stopped screeching. Kids around her slowly backed away from the mess, staring at her in terror. Cassie tried sitting up.  
Her face _(or what was left)_ was horribly mutilated. Fragments of gooey skin practically hung off her frame, nose dissolved to the bone. Left eye burst on impact with the desk, the toxic liquid melting it almost instantly. Lips split, barely there even. It was akin to a horror movie with amazing special effects. The only difference; It was real. Shockingly real. Cassie tried to sob, but her throat kept catching at the sight of her own eyebrows dangling in her eye. Only a choking sound could be made from the shriveled girl, her “face” frozen in shock. Her eye rolled into the back of her skull.  
Her head hit the desk with a resounding thunk, passed out.  
Miss Pennins promptly bolted out the door, shrieking hysterically.  
“Help! Dear God, help! There’s been a horrible accident, a student is dead!”  
As doors remained closed, she became more frantic. Banging on doors, screaming bloody murder, yanking on door knobs, but nobody would answer. Her saving grace came in the form of James Merkin, the schools janitor. Seeing her frenzy, he quickly raced toward her, grabbing hold of her arms. He began to shake her, trying to calm the woman down.  
“Oh thank God! Help me, a student is hurt! Her face! Dear God her poor face, warped and bloody and there’s blood everywhere! Oh Jesus-”  
She was slapped.  
“Pamela! Calm down! Go slower, what IS going on? Walk me through it.”  
She tried to make sense of what was going on, choking through her erratic sobbing. Shaking violently, she gripped Mr. Merkins arm and yanked him toward the direction of her room. He followed her, running.  
When he got to the room, kids were spread out against the walls. Completely alone, Cassie sat in her chair in the corner. Around her, globs of tan mounds circled where her head laid. It stunk like death.  
He was sure it was death.  
Steadily walking, James drew closer to her possible corpse. Chemicals were dripping down the table legs, leaving destruction in its wake. It was horrific. A girl so young, victim to a merciless crime. He examined the girl, attempting to pull her head off the desk. She was stuck. Stuck to the desk. Like gum to a chair. Her hands were frozen in a desperate grabbing motion, reaching for someone to help. Nobody did. James would be damned if he couldn’t help, so he struggled to get a pulse. Miraculously, there was still a gentle thumping.  
_Thank God._  
Miss Pennins was gone when he turned around. She had ran to the nurse, leaving him in a classroom full of terrified students. A feeling of hatred washed over him. He became enraged.  
“What the Hell? What the Hell! Who did it? Why did you do this? How could anyone do this? Get out! All of you!”  
He rushed toward them, arms waving in a _shoo_ motion.  
And they left. The last three, however, stayed and assessed their damage.  
“You three! Get out! You have no business being here anymore.”  
And Samantha Dross, Kevin Lecherson, and Drew Davis ran.  
Fast.


	3. Bacon and Secrets

Drew got home late that night, practically pushing himself to get through the door. Tired and groggy, he dragged up the stairs. He was done.  
_It was supposed to be harmless, we just wanted to tease her._  
He shivered at the image of Cassie again, her face glued to the table. He was so out of it, that he didn’t notice he was in the shower until the water pelted his skin, striking hot. He imagined how Cassie must have felt. Body scalding, such a high temperature her entire system broke down. Molecules separated, bonds breaking. _Think about something else, Drew. Anything else._  
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.  
“Drew? Sweetheart? Are you okay in there?”  
His heart started that familiar pounding again.  
“Yeah! I feel fine. Just a shower.”  
The voice on the other side paused for a moment.  
“Oh, okay! Enjoy your shower!”  
He rolled his eyes. It was impossible to do so. Every time he closed his eyes, his retinas replayed the scene over and over. He was bewildered by not only his strength, but his mind.  
Anyways, he remembered he had soccer practice the next day. The thought of him with his teammates eased his mind. _Fun. I need that_.  
He started to zone out again, letting the inky blackness of his mind sweep over him. For the rest of the night, he was on autopilot.  
And he liked that. 

The following morning began with standard routine. Wake up, get out of bed, and step downstairs to appreciate mama's cookin’. The woman made wonderful bacon and eggs, always persuading Drew to leave his comfy cocoon of a bed. It’s just how it worked.  
Drew groggily trotted down to the kitchen table. His mother, Kimberly Davis, was busy at the stove. Grease was popping from the frying pan, and Drew felt a pang of panic.  
Cassie.  
Though Kimberly was in a less threatening predicament, he was already up in arms.  
“Mom! Scoot back a bit!” he shouted, pulling at the back of his mother’s yellow nightgown. Drew was falling into hysterics.  
“Please! Come-” TUG “-On!” TUG  
“Drew Albert Davis! What are you on about? I’m fine! It barely even touches me! I know how to cook!”  
He faltered a bit, snapping back to reality. _What the hell am I doing? Baby Drew, tugging on his mommy’s shirt, whimpering over a bit of grease. Pathetic._  
Letting go, Drew slowly walked back to the table. His mother resumed her standard cooking fare, doting back and forth between the pans. Father Davis, the towns priest, traveled down the stairs in a peppy mood. Tall and bright, the man had a sunny disposition.  
“God shines on us this day!” Father said, waving his cap in the air.  
“And every day so forth.” The other two replied, with less demeanor.  
“Oh phooey! Where’s the ‘ol happy spirit you both possess? Where is the Lord in your speak?” Drew rolled his eyes again.  
“Morning champ!” A hand gripped his hair, ruffling it under its grip. Dad’s typical antics didn’t usually bother him, but on this morning he didn’t quite care for it. His father took a seat by him, setting his hat on the table. He straightened his white collar, tilting his head back.  
“Are you coming tonight, son? It’s a holy night!”  
_Ugh. I forgot, it’s Wednesday._  
“Oh, I can’t. I have soccer tonight, remember?” Drew looked at his father, swallowing deeply. He began to shrivel a bit, only then heeding his words.  
“Oh? Is there now? Well, you should certainly know that the Lord comes before everything. The Lord gave you soccer, sure, but the Lord also gave you life. The Lord comes first, always.” His father leaned forward, seriousness dripping off of every syllable.  
“Always.”  
The tension broke quickly as a plate of toast was placed between them. His mother sat, and they all bowed their heads. Once again, the morning falls victim to ritualism.  
“Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen."  
They dug in. Drew felt the urge to come clean about the incident, but every time he opened his mouth to speak, he shoveled another fork full of food in. He felt helpless, trapped even. Constantly compelled to speak, but he didn’t want to ruin his parents good morning. They’d find out eventually.  
Damn, was the bacon good.


	4. Felons and Nurses

_Here comes trouble_. Drew thought, eyeing the girl running towards him.  
Samantha Dross was a humorously short girl, barely breaking 5’1. Every time she skipped a step, her wild brown hair flew crazily. Despite her rampant beauty, Drew noticed she had dark bags under her eyes. Drew also noticed how fast the girl was approaching him, and before he knew it, the two had collided.  
“Jesus H. Christ Sam! What the hell is so important that you nearly ran me over?”  
Samantha laid in the dirt, smiling up at him.  
“I’m fine, I was just excited to see you!” Sam swung up, nearly knocking Drew over again. He steadied her with his hands. The girl was physically shaking.  
“How much sleep did you get last night?” Drew asked, trying not to shake with her.  
“Six cups of coffee and a dayquil!” Sam replied, drawing a laugh from the taller boy.  
_She’s too precious. Too bad she’s a murderer-_  
“You okay, Drew? Am I being annoying again?” He shook his head no.  
Samantha was standing now, her small body miniscule against Drew. The height difference excited him.  
“Six cups of coffee and a what? Are you kidding?”  
“Oh I’m fine! I got about 6 hours, I just get easily tired.” She spoke, her words breaking off into a serious tone. The unexpected mood shift caused Drew to register that now is the time for business.  
“We need to talk. Mockery called me in yesterday, he said he saw some things.”  
His blood ran cold. There shouldn’t have been anything except for witnesses, and nobody even saw until it was too late. Not even cameras adorning the walls could have caught them. It’s suspicious to him that him and his friends seemed to be the only ones called in. Was that dread dripping into the bottom of his stomach? Or was it just fear?  
“What did he say? He only talked to me for a few minutes before the bell rang, I couldn’t really talk much with him. He seemed unaware about the whole thing anyways.”  
Samantha remarked quickly.  
“He said he saw three kids running down the hallways, far back from the other students. Found it a bit odd. He said it seemed like criminals fleeing from a crime scene, he just didn’t get a good look at their face.”  
Yes, it was dread. Absolute dread.  
“What did you say?”  
She was wide eyed.  
“I didn’t say anything! I couldn’t. My mouth was so dry, Drew, I kept tripping over my words! He said he’d want us all in, he’s just waiting to get Kevin’s story first. What happens if the word gets out? We’re gonna be felons!”  
Drew wondered why the clouds kept spinning. He wondered why he couldn’t feel his heartbeat when it was just there seconds ago. He wondered why the corners of his vision started to draw back, like he was watching himself from a different point of view. There was a lot of blinking, and then it was a solid black.  
He awoke in the nurse's office, a cold press set on his forehead.  
_Jesus fuck._  
“Oh that’s a gnarly one buddy. I’ve already called your mom. She’s on the way.”  
Miss Jenkins sat behind him, his head in her lap. She kept petting his hair, which made him feel weirdly uncomfortable. Why was this woman petting him? He could have cracked his skull open on a rock! What if he ended up like Cooky Cassie- _wait. I shouldn’t be thinking that way_.  
“Miss J? What are you doing?” He stared up at the woman's face above him. Her sickeningly sweet smile gave him anxiety. She’s always had a creepy atmosphere about her. Peaking at 47, the woman still had huge breasts. Boys gawked at her every time she passed them. It was disgusting. He had to think fast, before that familiar pressure pressed at his loins.  
_Think about that ugly bitch in 3rd period. Her face like a pepperoni pizza, zits oozing puss. Gross OUT!_  
His breathing started hitching, and the face hovering slowly began to get closer and closer. He leaped up.  
“Miss J! I’m feeling better! I’m gonna go now.”  
She looked at him with a perplexed expression.  
“Why are you in such a hurry? Your mom is on the way! Just stay here with me, and you’ll be fine!”  
His heart started that all too familiar pounding. _I have got to get out of here._  
He rushed through the door, dismissing the nurses calls. _So long, Nurse!_ His track abruptly stopped at the destination of “Big Scary School Principal.” He didn’t expect this detour.  
“Where do you think you’re going, scout?” Big as a mountain, Principal Mockery towered over the boy with a fierce intimidation. Bald as hell, the mans only hair was on his face, coming out into a thick, bushy mound. Despite all of that, he was completely jovial. Almost like a bumbling fatso waddling around to the tuba.  
“I was just going back to class, no worries!” The pounding grew louder, hitting a crescendo when-  
“I would like to see you in my office again, just for a moment. I’m sure there’s some familiar faces there you’d want to see.”  
_Jesus. Christ. I’m. Gonna. Die._  
Drew stood slack jawed, mouth curled into a fake smile.  
“Yeah! Sure, I have a minute to spare.”  
Principal Mockery’s visage altered, from grave to the standard pleasure.  
“Step right this way.”  
Drew wished he was dead.


	5. Mockers and Jokers

In the room sat Samantha and Kevin, smiling at him. Tension was thick like a shitty dollar store steak. It could be cut with a knife, though it would take longer. Picking at the buttons on his coat, Drew sat down beside them. Leaning back into the armchair, the scent of old books and dust clouded his nose. This didn’t help with his heightened senses. Despite having fell to ground, he was remarkable wide awake. Trepidation cascaded over him. This was it, the final frontier. His mom was almost at the school, he just felt it, and she would have to watch the Principal yell at him for killing a student. It was just the way he wanted the day to go. Mockery finally shuffled in after him, closing the door behind him.  
“Well,” he began, “I just wanted to talk to you all about a little something. From our recent visits, I was able to piece together a solid timeline of the happening. Before I begin, would anyone like to _explain_ or _confess_ anything? Or do I need to start?”  
The three looked up at him, and they all commenced at once.  
“I didn’t do anything! I didn’t see it, I just heard it, I swear!”  
“What are you talking about? I told you everything. There isn’t a reason for me to be here!”  
“I- Uh… I uh, don’t know.. I was just-” Talking over each other, the most irritating thing in the world to Mockery. Sound echoed off the walls of his small office, and it made him furious.  
“Enough! That’s enough. It’s all the same trepid bullshit I’ve heard.” The profanity cause them to jump. Slamming his hands on his desk, he had turned a bright red. He was seriously impatient.  
“I want to know. Ev-ery-thing. I don’t want these lies anymore, I want the truth. I have witnesses who saw what happened, you’re seriously dumb if you don’t think anyone saw what you three did. You’re _retarded_ if you think that they wouldn't rat you out, either.”  
He sat down, his speech dwindling down to a dull, serious timbre.  
“Walk me through it. Honestly.”

Mrs. Davis sat in the front office of Bayview High School. It was raining outside, pellets of water pelting the windows. She had gotten a call earlier that day saying that her son had fainted. Worried, she left work early to come and get him, but he was nowhere to be found. The front desk woman, Miss Leisel, told her that they would find him. She was growing increasingly irritated.  
“He’s supposed to be in the nurse’s office. That’s what you told me.”  
Leisel was sitting at her desk, looking at Mrs. Davis with a smile only a secretary could manage.  
“I’m afraid he’s not there right now, he could be in the bathroom at the moment. Please take a seat, and when we see him, we’ll tell you.”  
Fuming, Mrs. Davis scolded,  
“Ma’am, he’s my son. You’re his school. Your school told _ME_ that he was in the NURSE’S OFFICE. Now _WHY_ don’t you have my son?”  
Miss Liesel tried to calm down the raging woman, leaning over to press the button marked SECURITY.  
“Ma’am, please take a seat before we escort you out.”  
Seeing the button, Mrs. Davis took the hint and reluctantly sat down.  
_Where the_ Hell _is my son?_

“We were playing around! We promise!” Kevin shouted, desperately trying to save his ass. Samantha sat silent, gazing down at the floor with glassy eyes. Drew, on the other hand, was hyperventilating. This was dead serious, Drew. This is a crime, Drew. You’re going to jail for murder, Drew. You’ll never see the light of day again, Drew. You’re dead-fucking-meat, Drew! Just then, the banter was interrupted.  
“Mr. Mockery, do you have a-” The shuffling of papers was heard “- A Drew Davis in your office?”  
He glanced at the small radio on his desk, emitting a soft buzz. Picking it up, he answered,  
“Yes, I do. Who needs to see him?”  
The hum was back.  
“His mother, she’s in damn hysterics. She’s here to check him out.”  
His eyes shifted back to Drew, the boys small frame visually shaking.  
“Tell her it’ll be 10 minutes.”  
She sighed, “Okay, when security is called just know it’s your fault.” And the low buzz dipped out of frequency. He reached over to click it off, no more disruptions. Back to business.  
“Now tell me, kids, did you ever think about that girl’s life? How tortured she must have felt? Are her feelings a game to you? There is no game in life, but what you took was a gamble. Luckily, she’s alive, but for the rest of her damn life she’ll be in agony! She was _melted_ into the fucking desk! _MELTED_! How could you live with yourselves?”  
A small ounce of relief washed over Drew. _Oh thank God, she’s okay. This won’t get too bad-_  
Sam, out of nowhere, piped in.  
“It was just a color changing tablet, no harm done-”  
Hatred filled Mockery so fervidly that he felt like he was on fire.  
“No harm done? It was goddamn Sulfuric Acid! What the hell do you mean by ‘no harm done’? You mutilated someone! That wasn’t some silly bath tablet, it was a reactant! You knew what you were making!”  
Spite graced his doughy features. The room had gone silent, and the three teenagers sitting in the chairs were at the complete mercy of the power before them. He took a deep breath, peering downward at them. They were frightened to say the least. The principal was supposed to be calm and collected, kind and patient. There was no calm here. Spitfire speech spat in that room rivaled the wrathful thunderstorm outside. Now there was the eye of the storm overpass, slowing the quick pace of “conversation”. Mockery took a deep breath, rubbing at his temples.  
“I didn’t mean to yell like that, but his is deadly serious. You really could have killed her, and the remorse I should be seeing isn’t there, and it’s making me upset. Tell me, would you wanted to have murdered your classmate?”  
His focus was steadily on Drew. A witness stated that the tall “shadow” belonged to him, and Mockery knew it. He had a gut feeling. Currently, Drew’s mind was reeling. It was true whiplash that he wasn’t expecting to feel that day. The guilt in his chest was completely justified when the flame reached into his desk, retrieving a manilla folder with the word “Cassie” written on it. He figured what was in it, and decided that he didn’t need to see anymore.  
_Don’t worry Mr. M, I have that shit etched in my memory. There’s no getting rid of it._

“Now you two, get out of my office. I’ll call you back in when I’m done with him. You are not out of the clear yet. I’d say you both are far from it.”  
The kids left solemnly.  
“Now, to discuss this issue with an adult. _Perhaps_ your mother.”  
Drew felt frantic,  
“Please don’t! Please don’t include my mom in this!” His cries were helpless as he watched the mountain above him move towards the radio.  
_Click_  
“Yes sir?”  
“Send her in.”


	6. Car Rides and Stale Pastries

There was silence during the car ride home.   
An invisible wall separated the two. Despite the size of the white van, it felt uncomfortably cramped and small. Rain covered the windshield, the only view being briefly cleared by the soft sways of the wipers. His mother was unnervingly still. He could see the gears turning in her brain, wondering where she went wrong with her monster of a son. Feeling that familiar urge to break the quiet, he spoke.  
“I had a somewhat good day at school, mom. I got to talk to Sam and Kevin. That was nice.” Her eyes remained on the road, ignoring him.   
He wondered what she was saying in her mind. Telepathy was never his strong suit, but reading facial expressions was. However, there was nothing in her unending, glossy gaze that could clue him in to what she was thinking. She had heard everything about what happened, and after Drew confessed to doing it, her usual talkative demeanor vanished completely. She became silent, only nodding at the punishments Drew would receive. He pondered if she hated him. She withdrew from conversation, Hell, withdrew from her own son. Empty is what she was. Empty is how she felt.  
They finally reached the house, the rain only getting heavier. Drew got out of the car, racing to the front door of their cabin. Miss Davis stepped out, opening her umbrella. He felt a stab of neglect. Why didn’t she tell him that she had one? She usually did that.  
He choked it up to her still reeling from shock. Dismissing it, he opened the door for his mother, only for her to walk right by. She was zombie like, so much so that she didn’t even close the umbrella before going inside. The wet contraption dragged across the carpet, leaving a trail of water in its wake. It was scary to him. She was never like this, even when her brother died. Looking closer, he could see her skin had gone pale.   
_Is she ok_ \- His thoughts were interrupted by his father, blissfully unaware of the whole ordeal. Sitting on his red leather throne, spoke up with an unusual amount of brightness.  
“Oh by golly, where is your spirit?”   
When his mom didn’t reply, Father Davis got the message and changed his voice.  
“Are you okay Stephanie? What’s wrong?”  
She didn’t speak again, walking past him. Drew followed her slowly. Rounding corners, tramping down hallways, the destination landed at the bed, and so did she. Crashing onto the fluffy king size mattress, she kicked off her shoes and curled into a ball. She let out a guttural cry, akin to a cat puking up a hairball, and started bawling. How could the son she have raised turned out to be a horrific beast, one of pure incomprehension? _Her_ poster child, a perfect trophy to shine and show off, one who could do no wrong! All wrong now, a bully, a mutilator, and a freak. A goddamn freak. She lost the kid she could present to others as a God, a star soccer player, a straight a-er. To Kimberly Davis, she had lost everything; dignity, respect, and street cred. Father Davis looked concerned, speaking in a softened voice.  
“Now now, don’t break into tears! What’s wrong dear?”   
She couldn’t bring herself to face him, only pushing herself further into the pillows that protected her. Dig and dig until there is no more. She wished she could’ve suffocated herself. He began to pat her back, petting her slowly, and murmuring sweet nothings into her ear to try and calm her down. Her only response was to wince and sob. Drew stood helplessly in the doorway. There was no getting to her now. _She looks so… disappointed. _Beyond_ disappointed. It was damn near ungodly. _  
His father looked back at him, perplexed. Drew began to draw back slowly, shaking his head.  
It was going to be a long night.

 

Later that evening, Drew had moved on to his normal Wednesday routine. Shower, eat dinner, and head on over to the best place in town; _Church. Fucking Church School. Yay me._ A break in his schedule came with McD’s, his mother refusing to cook dinner, and furthermore, not going to church. She was that damn distraught. After coming out of McD’s, Drew hopped in the white van, _FATHER DAVIS’ SUNDAY SCHOOL BUS_ plastered on the side. Father sat in the drivers seat, peeking over at Drew with a puzzled look.  
“Do you know anything about what got into your mother today? She left this morning all regular like, but you saw how she was in the bedroom. It’s really worrying me.”  
He felt his throat constrict.   
He had forgot. The head nods, the shocked glances, the sobbing, the silence, everything.   
“Ah, I have no idea.” _She won’t tell. She’s great with secrets._  
And with that, quiet befell them, following all the way to Bayview Baptist Church.   
Going inside, the air was warm and crisp, smelling of pastries. In the corner, a table sat with a buffet of donuts, croissants, and a variety of other items. Despite missing soccer practice, Drew did enjoy the light dusting of powdered sugar over the soft concoctions. It was ecstasy, pure bliss made only from the hand of Misses Calbrak, a sweet 90-something year old woman. Apple fritters, apple pie, pear pie, you name it and the woman would slave over a stove for hours, just to deliver that Calbrak Stamp of Approval. _Damn witch!_  
“Speak of the devil and he shall appear! How are you tonight, Misses Calbrak?” His father beamed, pearly whites shining with Jesus.   
She hobbled over, slowly looking up at him. Adjusting her glasses, she spoke scratchily.  
“Oh, goodnight Father, I’m mighty fine! How are you?”  
And thus started the Church banter, and Drew had a moment to slip away. He looked around for a second, and realized that the familiar face of Kevin was not there, another light snuffed out.   
_That’s odd, he never misses it._  
Drew walked down the hall, paintings portraying Jesus strung upon a cross, and a particularly haunting one at the end, hung above the entrance to the main room. The Savior was spread against the crucifix, dangling above the fiery pits of hell. His skin was melting off of his lower half, the blood dripping down the wood into Satan’s chalice, meanwhile demons danced around him. It gave Drew a shiver every time he walked under it, fearing that real blood could drip upon him at any second. He bolted under the picture.   
The atrium’s scent was drastically different. Waxing polish, wood, and dust. Every time he entered, it made his nose itch. The room was drab and empty, saving for a few pews and a podium in the center. Emptiness ate at his insides, sudden existentiality filling his guts. Nobody was in there, causing silence so deafening you could hear a pin drop. Talking was heard in another room, the school room. In a desperate attempt to escape the hushed horror of the Atrium, he briskly sauntered to the noise.

“I heard about that Carrie girl, it’s so sad. I heard she vanished from her hospital room. It’s really odd.” One voice said, while another, much higher one retorted,  
“Carrie who?”   
It was not something Drew wanted to hear when he arrived, but it was there. That evocative image, skin like gum and eye burst and-  
“Oh, hey Drew. Are you ready to join us?”   
He didn’t notice, but his father made it there before him. The ghosts of the Bayview Church had gotten to him. Then was then, though, and now he was back in the land of the living. He nodded absentmindedly. _Thank God._  
They soon gathered in a circle, Father Davis as the pristine center. Shiny and yet, so completely dull. He cycled through the same bullshit, citing proverb and psalms. Jesus this, Jesus that, God did this and red sea that and yaddah yaddah. All the same shit Drew had heard before, until-  
“When one does something wrong, one must pay by the hands of God. Meaning Hell betroths the sinner, no mercy upon their wretched soul; thoust must pay with their blood and mind, but few revoke their Godless sins. We are all sinners, my friends, but some… more than others.”  
Drew’s eyes were wide, connected with his fathers. _Dear Jesus it was like he peered into my eyes and spoke, spoke sweet nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing! Nothing!-_  
“Now friends, let’s recite the Sinners prayer, to pay for our sins.” 

Drew bowed his head and prayed, and for the first time, he meant it.


	7. Keys and Promises

That night, Drew laid in his bed, replaying the words over and over.  
 _Some more than others… we are all sinners… revoke their Godless sins… It’s almost like he was talking to me, like he knew what I did. He judged me like God will._  
He shivered. What did it feel like to die? What did it feel like to be delivered to the uncaring maw of God? He is almighty; He is Holy; He is just. Right from wrong, good from evil, like an assembly line they gather: sorted into Heaven or Hell.   
His phone rang. He sighed, leaning over to pick it up.   
“Drew! It’s me, Kevin! She got Sam - she got Samantha!” He sounded frantic, static engulfing his words, drowning him out. Alarm sounded in his chest.   
“What? What are you talking about?” Screeching was heard on the other line, giving a sense of urgency to the situation.   
“Cas--- i- her- I ne-d he-- sh--- he--p-” And with that, the line died. Pounding resumed in his throat, stronger than it’s ever been. It made his whole body thump with the beat. He threw on clothes like a bat out of hell. Drew practically fell down the stairs, turning into the living room at a speed unbelievably fast. Flying around the couch, he landed at the front door!-   
Only for it to be locked. From the inside. A voice called over his shoulder.  
“Drew. What are you doing? Are you sneaking out again? I revoked that privilege. I’ve revoked a _lot_.” He turned slowly, the figure creeping into view. His mother stood 5 feet away, peering at him.   
“Young man, I expected _so much better_ from you and you _know_ it.”  
She inched closer to him.   
_“So-” Step “Much-” Step “Better.”_  
Charge. 

Father Davis woke up to yelling.   
“What the hell! Get off of me!”  
“You are a bad boy, Drew! You let me down! I’ll kill you!”  
And at that( _like his son_ ) Father launched down the stairs.   
He came to a scene of rage. Blow after blow Kimberly laid her fist on her son, punching the lights damn near out of his skull. Drew was thrashing wildly, kicking and punching and trying to fend the batshit insane woman off. He grabbed Kimberly and ripped her off, all three of them shouting. The key to the door fell out of Mrs. Davis’ pocket during the incident, and Drew took hold of it lightning fast. He pushed the key into the lock, twisted the key, and shambled out the door; the screams of his mother fading in the distance.   
“DON’T COME BACK HERE YOU DEVIL! YOU FUCKING DEVIL! DEVIL DEVIL DEVIL!”

After a few minutes of walking down the dirt path, Drew found himself once again at the Lechersons cabin. The oddities were dull in comparison to the greatest odd of all; The door was open. Wide open. It was different to the almost military base like setting. It gave the cabin a sickeningly warm air to it. He approached slowly, the steps creaking as he reached the door.   
Stepping inside, the familiar Southern Comfort was apparent, stronger than ever. Another scent was present, smelling of alcohol and sulfur and-  
Chemicals.  
 _She’s here._

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” _SHATTER_  
Drew ran too fast, tripping over the runner rug. He fell to the ground with a resounding _thud_ , alerting whatever was down the hall.   
_THUMP THUMP THUMP_  
The smell grew stronger.   
A shadow fell over Drew, hands taking grip of his shoulders. In a hushed croak, the mass spoke.   
He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.   
“I’ve come back, Drew.”   
The sound of Cassie’s voice hypnotized him, lulling him to blind devotion. He followed every single motion, every word she said. She picked him up gently, pulling him down to the bathroom. He passed by Kevin’s room, not noticing the melted body stuck to the carpet. The stench of chemicals grew unbearable now, nearly waking Drew from his trance. Still, he kept on.   
The bathroom was bright white. In the tub was a mix of things, resulting in a light grey sludge. The house was dead silent, except for the whispered breaths of Cassie. She could breathe only through the hole where her mouth should have been. The hole was small, making a whistling sound.   
In his state, Drew was fixated on the bathtub. The smell was intoxicating, tempting him to get in. The ring of his cell phone broke his illusion. Coming to, Drew twisted out of Cassie grip, and decked her in her fucked up face. She flung back, hitting her head on the sink. Sinking to the floor, she let out a low moan, and passed out.   
Drew sprinted out of the room and down the hall. He reached to answer his phone as he reached the front door, before it struck him: _When did the door shut?_ He pulled on it. _It’s locked._ He got to the kitchen and tried the backdoor; _Locked too. Dear God I’m fucking stuck here._ The phone kept buzzing in his pocket. He looked at the small screen. Dad.  
“Drew? Where are you? I was able to calm her down, she wants to talk now. Please come home.”  
Drew looked around,  
“Look, not now dad. Right now, I need to you come pick me up. I’m at Kevin’s house, nobody’s home, and I’m stuck inside with a lunatic!  
There was no hesitation.   
“On my way. Be there in 5.” The phone clicked off. Drew was scared, his fear rising as moans echoed through the empty house. He had to hide, quick. Locating a nearby closet, he jumped inside. The closet was dark, the only light streaming in through the slits in the door. Drew sat up, peeking through the gaps. His heart skipped a beat as he saw Cassie. She was slumped over, walking with her twisted steps. Looking closer, he observed that her eye seemed crossed with the empty gap next to it. Her hair was shaved in patches, blotches of red, bubbled skin. The strands peeled back revealed a large scar on her left temple.   
She stopped in the middle of the living room, getting familiar with her surroundings. Her head moved up and down, nodding as she sniffed the air. She turned quickly in Drew’s direction, causing him to leap back down.   
_RING RING RING_  
He scooped the phone up and answered in a frantic whisper.  
“Dad what the fuck!”  
“I’m outside son! I’m here-”  
He didn’t get to hear the rest, as he was yanked out of the closet.

Her grip was strong. Drew started screaming his lungs out, hauled down the hall once again. His ass scraped against the rug, leaving a burn in its wake. He reached at the hands holding him, prying at them to let him go. The hold remained tight. She was not letting him get away again. Never again. She picked him up, and heaved him over her slanted shoulder. He could see the carpet change to tile, and he writhed in her clutch. Nails scratching at bubbled skin, hair strands being pulled, fabric being ripped, but nothing would stop her.   
He could hear the door being broken down, his father shouting at the top of his lungs. She dangled him over the bathtub, the fumes seeming to burn his skin. He felt hot, so furiously hot that his system could begin to shut down. Bonds breaking. Skin melting off like glue. This was it, what she really wanted. She wanted him dead. He could feel the hold on him start to loosen, sliding ever closer to the tub. The door was finally smashed open, his dad flying to the rescue. In and through the house, landing triumphantly at the bathroom only to see his son be dropped into a vat of acid.  
Drew tried to let out a scream, but it was impossible due to his vocal cords being burned out of his neck. He felt that same sensation that Cassie had felt, only ten times worse. He wished it was an instant death, but it went on forever. Searing agony, his head the only thing staying afloat before she pushed him under. Father Davis stood helplessly as his son was dissolved before his eyes. Cassie turned back to him, smiling.   
“You’ll get him back. Promise.”  
And with that, she turns and exits; leaving chemical warfare behind.


	8. Colors and Birds

There was only quiet. The house felt still and peaceful. Villains overthrown, heroes winning, only to leave a mess after. The cleaner of this mess would be Father Davis. The thought of leaning up his own sons pink, gooey flesh made him sick. He slowly backed away, returning to the van. If he was one second closer, he would have saved him. If he had brought the things to break down the door, he would have saved him. If- what if’s didn’t do anything. What was done was over, and he slid into the van with a somber expression.   
He laid his head against the headrest, sighing. Tears began to flow, and after that a river had appeared. There was nothing he could have done, and that was final. End of discussion.   
_You’ll get him back. Promise… what the Hell does that mean?_  
His eyes turned back to the house, eyeing the contents inside as much as he could. One feigning hope that Drew might return, completely intact. Maybe it was a sick joke! A prank! Where was Rachel and Harold? They couldn’t be in on this, it’s improbable! The eyes staring at the cabin widened.  
 _Is that a fucking skeleton?_  
And sure enough, the undergarments of the human body was walking towards him. He couldn’t speak. There was nothing but shock, an urge to scream, and a damn skeleton. The ever approaching bones rattled as they walked. Suddenly, a voice called out.  
“Dad? Is that you?”   
_Is that Drew?_  
“Son? Where are you?”   
The skeleton perched at the edge of the van, walking in a futile attempt to reach Father Davis. He realized that the thing - monster - before him was his son. His only son. He got out of the van, gaping at the beast. The whole damn body was wiped clean of any skin, almost shining in the moonlight. It was beautiful. His son was perfect now; No imperfections. The Father didn’t understand that he was cracking. Physically and mentally, breaking like those hydrogen bonds. His gape turned to a twisted smile, giggling like a madman.   
_“Oh son! Hop in, I’ll take you for a fucking joyride!”_  
Drew was scared, but then he remembered that skeletons don’t have nerve endings.   
So he jumped in.

 

The van sped through the roads of Bethel, Maine in a flurry of white. Speeding way over the limit, the car at 100 mph. Father was out of control, running over animals and blazing through traffic cones. The cones excited him, for some odd reason, and he swiftly pulled over. The turn was so wide that the sheer force of it slung everything there to the right.   
Drew and his dad got out, walking to the orange cones. Father stacked 3 up and ran with them, and Drew only took one. They got back to the car and threw the cones in frantically. His dad’s phone kept going off. _Ignore_. Getting back in, the speedometer on his dash went from zero to a hundred. Again, the two were traveling through the town, knocking shit all over. Drew got a funny feeling - despite not having nerves - to get out while in motion. He slowly unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to the vans skylight.   
His dad, completely unhinged, encouraged that he stand on top.   
“Get out son, get out! Nothing will hurt you, let the light in!”   
The skeleton pulled out of the window, and stood atop the vehicle. He hooked his bony feet under the rails on the top, and reached back down to grab a traffic cone. Coming back up, he shut the skylight and admired the sea of stars above him. It would be breathtaking, save that the boy still had lungs. He was up there for a long time, but to him; It was seconds. The sun began to rise, casting rays onto his white bones. Trees clothed in warm hues lit up, flooding the morning with bright reds and oranges. He saw birds flutter by, the beauty of nature enveloping him. There was no Cassie, there was no Mockery, there was no mom. No tortured souls, no lessons learned, no dead friends and family. No worries, no cares, no internal organs.

 

Only him, on top of a van, with a stolen traffic cone, waving at a bird.


End file.
